


A Practise In Accountability

by Belfire



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Absent Parents, Age Regression/De-Aging, And Rose is just the sweetest thing ever, Child Neglect, Do-Over, Grant is a little shit, Joey's a sweetheart, M/M, Slade is an awful parent, little kids, terrible parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belfire/pseuds/Belfire
Summary: Four Wilsons run into each other unexpectedly on a mission and one would rather do anything but parent. Fight Superman, hunt his ex-wife down, climb up an oil rig during a thunderstorm, literally anything else. But with no wife whose arms to dump his newly little kids into, the age regression ray doesn't give Slade the option he's taken every time up until now.This might be his toughest mission to date.





	1. Awful Is As Awful Does

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meowler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowler/gifts).



> I love this dysfunctional family, okay? Also, I don't know why Grant isn't dead. He just isn't and we don't ask why.
> 
> Gifted to Meowler, whose fics I've really been dying for lately. Amazing stuff, my dude, I hope to see a new JaySteph instalment soon!

Ah, Norway, a country that was as scenically beautiful as it was treacherous in midwinter but Rose hadn't yet had the time to enjoy the snow peaked mountains and perilously icy ocean for its appearance. Not when she was tracking her next target, a wealthy businessman who owned a good chunk of the oil rigs off the coast. Her job was to take him out. The mission was perfectly planned, perfectly executed, everything could have gone smoothly had she not bumped into some people she didn't expect to meet this far from home. 

And now Rose was in a shack, on the cliff overlooking the shoreline, stuck with her idiot brothers.

"Why the  _fuck_  are you here?" Grant pointed a finger of accusation to her as if she was the out of place one here.

"Why the fuck aren't you  _dead_?" Glaring, Rose retorted back, sizing up to him despite falling an entire foot and a half shorter. Grant had their father's stature but not his heightened intellect; he was dumb as a fucking rock.

" _Can you please stop fighting?_ " Joey's computerised voice hummed, transmitted via Bluetooth to the travel-sized speaker on his belt. He was civil, reserved, calm like he always was but wherever he inherited those genes from did not transfer to his and Rose's big brother.

"Stay outta this, _faggot_!" Grant snapped, the weight of his outburst taking Joey aback by a couple of steps. Rose saw red, enough of it to want to rip into Grant's stupid face for that comment.

"Don't fucking talk to my brother like that!" 

"He's not your brother, you illegitimate bitch!" 

"He's more  _my_  brother than yours!"

"You've got no claim on our family! A broken condom is the only reason you exist!"

"You're such a-"

"Quit fighting. Daddy's back." With all the quarrelling and squabbling, no one heard Slade come in and now, he stood a meter from them with his arms crossed and a scowl of displeasure striking them on all sides. Shit, so he was in Norway, too? Rose was beginning to catch a whiff of a set-up. Just what was  _daddy_  planning?

"What's going on,  _Slade_?" Grant demanded before anyone else got a word out, squaring up to his father like he actually scared Deathstroke. Their gazes aligned perfectly, almost at the exact amount of height but Slade's cool air of menace outweighed Grant's full-of-himself aggression on the intimidation scale.

"That is a _brilliant_ question, Grant." Slade pushed him back by the shoulders, to arm's length and ran his gaze over his kids slowly in turn, appearing to stall on the notion that they were actually all in the same room at once. Yeah, Rose couldn't really believe it either. Uncomfortable and abnormal is what this was.

"But I don't know. I didn't orchestrate whatever this is."  

"Dad, I think I speak for all of us when I say that  _no one_  fucking believes you," Rose said, already on her last nerve with these stupid tricks and games Slade played. There was no way he wasn't lying and even less chance that he wasn't gaining something from this. 

"Then don't. Doesn't bother me." Slade shrugged, uncaring as he could be then turned his attention on the only one of his kids who hadn't already tried to start with him.

"What lured you here, Joey?" 

" _Was here on vacay and heard there was a hit on a Norwegian businessman, his demise would be catastrophic for Norway since he owns a good chunk of its oil rigs and his heir wants to sell the business to wealthy Russian investors_ _. Thought I could lend a hand to the good Norwegians_." Joey was so quick to give Slade every detail right down to its molecule; not because he was afraid of his father but he was, by far, the least acknowledged Wilson child and this bit of attention was almost more than he could take. Rose was sure Slade knew that he'd spill the easiest and her eye narrowed on him.

"Noble, son," Slade admitted. "I was given the hit. That's what brought me here." 

" _You_  got it, dad?" Rose furrowed her brow but remained glaring at him. "So did I."

"Me too," Grant mumbled, confused but then stared at his father like he had the answers to this dilemma. Despite his mask covering his face, they could all sense the heatwaves of hatred every time his attention hit Slade.  

"Then it's a setup and Joey's here by coincidence." Slade sighed as if he really didn't have the energy for this. To this day, Rose wasn't quite certain how his head worked but she knew for a fact that dad loved huge tricky messes with high-stake risks and conflicts that had no turning back. That sudden drain in stamina had to originate from having to deal with his children.  _That_  he did not love, history would tell.

"Grant, Rose, Joey," Slade gestured to them with a hand motion while he unsheathed his sword. "Run along home. I'll handle this."

"Like hell you will,  _Slade_." Grant snapped, barely able to contain himself this long. Yikes, he _really_ hated Slade. So much so that he didn't hesitate to step directly into his path when he tried leaving and shoved him back. Not hard enough to make him stumble but the effort was there.

"Grant, I don't have time to deal with your theatrics right now." Slade took him by his shoulders a second time and moved him forcefully against his protests.

"Don't fucking touch me." Grant slapped his hands violently away.

" _G, you need to calm down_ ," Joey interjected, hovering worriedly by. Literally, surrounded by the green glow of his Ikon suit, Joey was hovering a foot above the floor.

"Go choke on a dick, you fucking fairy." Grant spat at his little brother with the force of a punch and while that pissed Rose off  _impeccably_ , what was perhaps more rage inducing was that Slade didn't say anything about the way Grant spoke to Joey. Nada, zip, zilch, not a word.

Perfectly ignoring them all, Slade swept by and he headed outside, into the snow and ice since he preferred the bitter cold to the company of his own fucking kids. Rose glared bloody murder after him and hoped he got his head blown off on this mission.

With dad gone and only his siblings to quarrel with, Grant made his way out too, spitting at Rose as he did and she flipped him off.  _Prick_. He had inherited more from Slade than just his outward appearance.

Huffing, blowing her cheeks out, Rose turned to her remaining brother and the only one she wanted to exist.

"Wanna piss dad off, Joey?"

" _Pop told us to go home_."

"He also _sucks_." Rose muttered as she shouldered her sword, marching toward the door cause she was going out whether or not she had company. 

"Remember dad was given a hit you were supposed to forfeit? Might wanna do something about that, I'll lend a hand... or fist. Only if you want, of course." Shoving the door open, she smirked to herself when she heard Joseph following. Wasn't so hellbent on obeying their father, was he? Oh, dear blond Joey was every bit as rebellious as any Wilson child with a smidge of encouragement.

" _Wait up, Rose_."

* * *

 

Slade could only think of one bitch who'd get a rise out of luring them all here and said bitch was the bitch queen, overseer of all the bitches there were. He wasn't sure what she got out of it quite yet but it had to be  _her_... it wasn't exactly public news that Jericho was the son of Deathstroke. Grant, sure, yeah, anyone could guess that and Rose was perhaps even more obvious but Joey always went the extra mile to keep his shameful heritage under wraps. 

There was a hit but not a chance in hell it was coincidence three Wilsons were handed the same job while Joey was in the same country. This shit had Adelaine written top to bottom and all four sides. He did wonder what the brunette lady Satan wanted. Well, no need to wonder long, he was climbing up the side of an oil rig, angry dark ocean beneath sending sea-spray at him that looked wafer thin and misty but the second it hit, he was drenched to the marrow. 

Slade took his time scaling the iron legs of the rig, not because he was striving for the side of caution but he was letting Grant catch up. Yes, he was _fully_ aware his eldest stowed away on that boat he stole to get here. He probably wanted to fight or attempt slaying his father for the umpteenth time. He was welcome to try, Slade had dealt with that more times than Grant had lived years. _Homicidal maniac...._  now which parent could he have inherited that from? Jesus, that boy had rotten genetics from the get-go, it was nobody's guess how he turned into what he was.

Three quarters of the way up, Slade paused, hanging on by one arm and narrowing his vision against the spray of salty water as he looked down the way he'd come, waiting until he saw the ash-white and black flash of his son's suit. He had to make sure the damn boy didn't slip and fall, didn't he? He still had some tiny sort of accountability for what happened to his kids.

Grant was keeping his distance, hiding among the metals and arm-thick cables running up to the rig, perfectly concealed had Slade not come equipped with heat-vision built into his mask. He estimated Rose and/or Joey would be joining them soon, it was way too much to expect them to do as they were told. He had a head start, at best. 

Waiting some ten seconds, Slade continued on up past the wail of the wind and downpour of waves hitting high above head. There was a storm coming, a really bad one. It was in his best interests to be off this rig before then but what the hell, chats with the mother of his sons often took a little longer than he had time for, what with the fistfights they got into. Bloody woman. Bitch though she was, she could hit harder than most men he'd fought, and yes, he'd fought Superman. 

With a grunt, he pulled himself onto the platform and rose, boots on the ground eliciting little splashes with each step. One visual sweep and he could tell this place was either deserted or severely undermanned. There weren't even any damn lights on and god alone knew if the power was out. Would Adelaine really set up shop in a dump such as this one? Well, she married that fat bastard Barry so nothing was  _truly_  beneath her but he'd admit, this was odd. 

"You coming, son?" Slade asked over his shoulder when he heard Grant hauling his drenched body onto the rig, taking a little longer than Slade did. He was younger by a half but he sure as hell wasn't faster.

"Fuck you, Slade." Grant snapped when he stood and with a metallic swish, his katana came free from its sheath. Slade sighed as he turned slowly on his heel to meet his son's eyes, covered by red tinted lenses. Of course, the boy wanted to fight here and now. 

"Grant, we really don't have time for this. I need to find out what your mother is-"

"What the fuck makes you think  _mom_  is here? God, you hold her accountable for  _everything_." Anger and poisons leaked out of every word and syllable, sheer undiluted  _hatred_  burning like kerosene alight when Grant fixed his sights on Slade. Were this anyone else in the whole world, Slade would have taken the shot his instincts immediately clued him in on; the spot between Grant's collar bones where there was neither Kevlar nor iron, just leather. It would be a direct hit and an instant kill. 

But no. 

He couldn't exactly kill his own son, now could he? Then again, Slade also didn't want to deal with whatever insecurities and past wrongdoings were littering the boy's mind now. Hopefully, he could ignore this.

"I'm not going to fight you, so you may as well put that sword away," Slade told him and much as he expected, the blade didn't go anywhere but Grant's hand did tighten around the leather bindings of the hilt, eyes narrowing.

"Then I guess you won't object to me cutting you a head shorter." 

"Assuming you can reach, little boy." 

That comment struck a raw nerve, the low growl and lip pulled back were about the only bit of warning to Grant lunging at him, sword held high and ready to bring it crashing down. Slade didn't bother moving, not when Joey - with Rose in his arms - finally got his flying ass over and kicked Grant clear off his warpath and across the soaking deck. Smack, he hit the ground rather hard with a grunt of pain he muffled with his teeth, his sword sliding out of hand's reach. 

" _Hi again, pop_." Joey waved a hand while he let Rose down.

"Hello, son." Slade absently replied, watching Grant push himself back onto his feet with a face like thunder. He wasn't going to try that again, was he? 

"Dad," Rose drew his attention from Grant, "Whatever's going on here, me an' Joey wanna help you-"

"No." 

"But-"

" _No_."

Scowling much like her mother could, Rose crossed her arms over her chest and pouted angrily as if she were three. She was fifteen years off.

"You realise if we gang up on you, daddy, we can rip you to pieces?" Rose made that out to be a threat and despite going for each other's throats earlier, Grant joined her side, twirling his sword in an axis while Joey floated by, yet to pick and choose a side.

"I get the head." Grant gestured with the blade of his weapon, drawing an invisible line across Slade's throat with the tip barely touching.  

"And you'll all get a spanking if you don't cut this out. I've got more important things to do than  _babysit_." At that, not just two but all the kids adopted glowers and Joey joined his siblings in their adorable little protest line. 

"You've never babysat a day in your life,  _dad_." Rose was genuinely annoyed there, spitting that at him like it was the most derogatory thing there was to say. 

"I strictly remember  _mom_  takin' care of me an' Joey while you were gallivanting around in foreign countries with Wintergreen." Grant took sides with his sister in what must be the first time they ever buried the hatchet and been of a like mind.

" _You weren't even there for my birth. Where were you - Iraq, was it?_ " Joey chimed in and although that computerised voice of his couldn't actually filter emotion through, Slade was quite sure he was ticked off too. He rolled his eye.

"So you're all upset 'cause I never read you bedtime stories?" Slade scoffed. "Well, don't worry, it's not too late since apparently  _none_  of you have grown up yet."

"...  _How_  are you this fucking  _awful_?" His daughter demanded while Joey's hand found her upper arm, tightening to keep her from kicking her dad in the face. Just a side note, she could never reach that high. 

"If you think I'm awful, let's go back in time and meet your granddaddy one day." Slade said as a passing comment, circling the troupe of angry children with his tolerance for them wavering to nil. He should have stopped at one. Or, ideally, _none_. No kids sounded heavenly if it meant never having to deal with their rants and pitiful feelings of neglect. Didn't they understand feelings could be switched off? 

" _Let him go, Rose_.  _He's not worth it_." Joey's mechanical voice whirred when he gripped his sister's arm tighter, stopping her from storming behind Slade like she'd wanted to. Grant didn't even bother turning to look after his father, he stood with his knuckles turning white around the hilt of his weapon, the joints of his fingers popping and he glared venomously at his boots.

Their silence may have been bitter but Slade enjoyed every bit of it. He'd take the rattling of an automatic rifle and blast of bombshells over them any day. Confident he'd hurt their delicate feelings enough to be left alone, he was off to find his _beloved_ ex-wife when out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement in the control tower's bay windows about the second the sound of glass shattering cut through the air and a white energy beam was fired at him. 

He dodged it,  _naturally_. Rolling fast onto his shoulder and out of its path, it missed him by meters but his slow, idiotic children weren't as quick with their reflexes; the beam crashed right into them and all three screamed in synchrony. _Dammit_. The light drowned them in it, Slade couldn't make out even their silhouettes over the blinding glow. Without a second to take aim, he whipped a gun from its holster and pumped several shots into the control room and one hit its mark, sinking deep into the wet hot flesh of their assailant. The weapon, whatever it was, shut off the instant the bullet hit but instead of heading to investigate at once, Slade hurried over to where his kids had been standing. He wasn't  _that_  heartless, okay? Of course, he didn't want them to be incinerated just because they were annoying as hell.

An alien feeling like tightness in his chest gripped hold when all three of them, Grant, Joey, Rose, were gone and just their suits remained scattered on the charred ground.  _No - no, no_. Gritting his teeth, that brisk walk turned into a jog to get to where they'd been but then he paused fast enough for a high-pitched squeak to elicit from the soles of his boots skidding on the wet ground. Underneath the soaking heaps of their suits, something was... something was  _moving_. 

"Don't fucking touch me!" The creature screamed when Slade moved the garment to investigate and a small foot kicked out at him. What the hell? Grant's suit fell from over the head of the thing that was under it and to Slade's heart-stopping horror, a young child between the age of six and seven glared devilish murder at him, floppy overgrown sable hair a visor that didn't hide the devastatingly familiar blue eyes that didn't like him one bit. 

_No... please no._

As if on cue, tiny hands wrapped around Slade's leg and with a start, he whipped his gaze down to a blond four-year-old child clinging to him for balance, unable to stand under the weight of the Ikon suit. 

_No - no. No..._

"Da-" To confirm the worst fears he'd ever beheld, a toddler with an unruly mop of silvery white locks crawled towards him from beneath the mound that was Rose's uniform. 

Christ on a cracker. 

The horrible miniature monsters were pawing at him, the littlest two trying to climb up his legs and it was a conscious effort for Slade to tell himself not to kick them away. What did they want? The way they looked at him was expectant and perhaps the most horrifying thing he'd ever witnessed. Except Grant; the little bastard flipped him off when Slade glanced at him.

"Daddy, pick me up." Joey vigorously patted his thigh for attention and surprisingly, he wasn't using Bluetooth or a mic or anything to speak through, severed vocal cords somehow healed. Beside himself, Slade made no attempt to gather his son off the rain-drenched ground and stared without words, taking a lot longer to process this than he usually would anything.

However, Rose's high pitched wail snapped him out of the trance. She was crying at his feet, on her hands and knees, making a glorious riot with the wordless demand to be lifted by her father. The screech of noise upset Joey and soon, he was tearing up too. 

Holy hell. 


	2. Awful Continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lotta people don't know much about the Wilson lore so here's a summary of characters you'll need to know for this chapter;
> 
> David Isherwood (pre-virus); an old friend/ally of Slade's, honorary uncle to his kiddies but they don't get on so well nowadays on account of Ish dating Joseph - you know, his sorta-nephew who he helped raise. This is canon.... 
> 
> Adeline Kane; Slade's ex-missus, mother of Joey and Grant. She hates Slade and the feeling is mutual.
> 
> Billy Wintergreen; Essentially, he's Slade's version of Alfred.

Here's something Slade never knew; the ammo belt across his chest needed only a little modification to become one hell of a baby carrier and Rose fit perfectly into it. She was finally asleep after screaming herself raw for the duration it took to locate the rig's chopper and load the cursed weapon that did this onto it. Even in sleep, Rose's tiny hand was fisted around a clump of his goatee and any attempt to remove it and she'd begin stirring.

The boys were small enough to be strapped into the same seat, beside their father and Slade tried really hard to focus on not crashing the helicopter into the cliffsides. This storm wasn't letting up, as if 10/20 sight didn't already obscure his vision enough. Hail pelted the windshield in heavy sheets and drummed on the aircraft on all sides, the overpowering blast of the wind making them sway in flight. By no means, was it safe to fly in these conditions, especially not with three little children on board but he'd be damned if he didn't get to the bottom of this disaster quick. He'd go mad if he didn't.

"Daddy, I'm scared," Joey whined  _again_ , that's what he'd been complaining about this whole time. Slade continued ignoring him, jaw grit. A particularly loud crack of lightning and Joey gasped in fright, shying deeper into the seat.

" _Daddy_...." There were tears in Joey's voice that time, tears in his pastel green eyes too but he garnered no reaction.

"Man up, you gay pussy." Grant stopped fussing with the seatbelt firmly across him long enough to fix his little brother a glare.

"Daddy, Grant's being mean." Joey tugged at Slade's sleeve, arm barely reaching from the space across the seats. Slade shrugged him off and that small hand retreated back in defeat; Joey's gaze was downcast and heavy with sadness, lower lip quivering. Jesus, had he always been this sensitive?

Slade glanced at him from the corner of his eye but for the life of him, he couldn't feel anything remote to pity. Or paternal instinct that would make him comfort the four-year-old. Grim, he turned back to the crow's flight.

"Cantcha make this fucking rust bucket move any faster?" Grant demanded, holding a fistful of the belt and pulling it as far from himself as he could. It kept rubbing on him and he didn't like it.

"I'm talking to you,  _Slade_." Grant snapped his fingers irritatingly when he wasn't paid attention to.

"You fucking deaf as well as half blind?"

"Grant, if you wake your sister you will be sorry." Slade warned him darkly, his tone anything but tolerant and that brat of his responded by poking his tongue out.

"That snotty pink raisin  _isn't_  my fucking sister."

"That window is big enough to throw you through, you know."

"Bitch,  _please_. I'd fucking like to see you try."

Taking a forcibly calming breath, Slade's hands squeezed the controls harder, until they trembled. Heart to heart with Rose, she mewled and shifted. His breath caught in his throat, afraid she was waking up again but to his relief, she settled soon, sighing comfortably. Oh, thank fuck.

"Daddy, Grant's pinching me!" Joey wailed just when Slade was foolish enough to succumb to the silence and think it would last.

"Am not!" Grant aggressively retorted even while his thumb and index held Joey's skin trapped between, twisting it.

" _Daddy_!"

Slade shot them another look and this time, Grant was  _kicking_  Joseph with both feet. Huffing, their father finally decided to step in and grabbed Joey by his scruff, plucking him from the seat with a yelp from the boy and dropped him onto his lap.

"Don't squirm," Slade ordered him while he opened the belts just long enough to strap his son in.

"Okay." Joey agreed, settling against Slade's chest quite happily..... For God only knows what reason. Grinning like the monster he was, Grant pulled his legs onto the seat he now had all to himself.

They both shut up after that, plunging them into the bliss that was the beat of rotor blades and pelting of the storm.

Then a thought dawned on Slade and in no time at all, he was connecting a call to an old friend who might be able to lend a hand. He built the Ikon suits, he might have some ideas on how to fix this.

Slade thrust a headset on and adjusted the mic, the static of the radio crackling in his ears while he adjusted the frequency to the channel only he and select allies who were few and far apart knew existed.

"Ish, come in. You there?"

The radio blared static just a little bit longer before it gave him any results.

" _Rec -ving, Slade_ ," Isherwood's voice was barely making it through the disturbance on the air and that must be the storm fucking with them. Here's hoping some part of this got through.

"Where are you, Ish?" Slade asked while Joey tried taking the headset off him and Grant complained about the speed of the chopper again.

" _Norway, vaca_ -"

"Which city? Which hotel?" Slade ground his teeth as he guided Joey's hand off the mic he was trying to play with. He'd guessed as much that Joseph would be on a getaway with his boyfriend, Isherwood, which - while he'd never approve of someone his age dating his son - was useful right now.

Through the haywiring radio buzz, Slade managed to get the location Isherwood fed to him on the second go. That wasn't far from here, not even a thirty-minute flight which was just perfect since these damn kids were driving him off the brink.

" _Slade, ar - you alright? You sound_ -"

"Whatever lab equipment you took with, prep it."

" _Why? Wh - ts happ - ned_?"

"Let's just say you may find my son more jailbait than he ever was and you should keep your cradle-robbing cougar hands off him."

_"This again? For god's sake, Slade, Joseph is an adult."_

Slade glanced at the four-year-old sat on his lap, returning to the call with a gruff,

"Whatever you say, _Ish_." The storm's interference cut the signal off before Isherwood could interject another word and maybe, Slade was happier for that. He avoided conversation with his  _friend_  and honorary uncle to his children as much as possible for the small reason that the man had helped raise Grant and Joey and was now  _dating_  Joey. Like, that  _screamed_  creepy, didn't it?

It did. Adeline and Slade put their world of differences apart long enough to agree on that.

Slade didn't really care that he plunked the helicopter down on the hotel's roof, beside the drained swimming pool and the rotor blades cut down all those annoying decorative trees. Palms in Norway during early winter, yeah, cause  _that_  looked natural. He was doing these people a favour as far as he was concerned.

Rose was awake but thankfully, not howling, simply gazing up at her father through heavy lids and eyes glazed over with tiredness. Slade stared at her, momentarily trying to find anything 'cute' about babies. Now, he accepted his daughter had physical appeal in certain aspects to certain people, but that was not the case as of now. She was a wrinkly chubby mess with her proportions all wrong and no definition what-so-ever to her round face. It wasn't subjective, however, Grant and Joey were ugly at her age as well. Another thing Adeline and he would fight about,  _apparently_ _,_  it was _wrong_ to make it known that your kids were ugly.

"C'mon, Joey." Slade scooped Joseph off the ground, under his arm and he motioned for Grant to follow; Grant who could bloody well walk by himself but made no effort to rise when Slade did.

"Get up, Grant. We're going inside."

"Fuck off, old man. I'm stayin' right here." Crossing his arms, Grant leaned heavier into the seat while he glared, linking his ankles over the armrest. The look on his face, that scowl, was a dare for Slade to do anything to move him. For a second, Slade asked himself if the kid was being serious right now. He was. Grant didn't shift a muscle.

Couldn't leave him here, could he?

Slade's free hand wrapped around Grant's wrist and dragged him out the seat against the boy's hardest protests that were all together rather pathetic.

"Fuck you, Slade!  _Fuck_  you!" Grant shrieked at him when Slade pulled him along, lifting him out the chopper by his arm and got kicked repeatedly for that. Grant's feet bounced off his armour without leaving more than streaks of mud but it was still irritating. Carrying his eldest like that and with Joey under his arm, squirming, Slade wasn't in the best mood when he kicked the roof door off its hinges and descended the steps into the top floor's hallway, where Isherwood was already on his way to meet him.

"Dare I ask where you stole these kids from, Slade?" Ish arched a brow when the pissed off mercenary dropped Grant from half a meter of altitude and the kid barely caught himself. He sent rage-filled hand signs to his father while Slade bared his teeth at him.

"I didn't  _steal_  them, Ish. Stop being a moron and hold your  _boyfriend_." Slade thrust Joseph at Ishwerwood, releasing him almost faster than the man could grip him then stared in bewilderment at the little blond smiling up at him from his cradle of arms.

" _Holy shit_." Isherwood murmured when everything hit home and he adjusted Joey onto his hip while Slade wrestled with Grant. He managed to get his hand around the monster's wrists held them together, receiving sharp kick to the knee.

"Fix this." The merc ordered Isherwood, his teeth filing smooth from all this gritting and grinding. The way his back was arched, holding onto his struggling, cursing eldest, Rose was sliding out the ammo belt and would have had a close encounter with the floor had Ish not noticed and grabbed her before that could happen - not like Slade could appreciate it, though.

"Get your paedophile hands off my daughter, David." 

"For the last time, Wilson - I. Am.  _Not_. A  _paedophile_! Joey was twenty-one when-"

"I don't care."

"You also don't know how to handle kids." Ish deadpanned, allowing Joey onto the ground when he fussed but held onto his tiny hand, lest the urge to wander came upon him.

"Well, I'm _not_ a paedophile so that's something I have and you don't."

" _Slade_  - what  _the hell_  have you done to my babies!!??" Screaming, a storm-faced woman barged past Isherwood to land Slade a hefty punch to the jaw. The surprise blow meant he didn't have the time to brace for it; he stumbled a few steps and was forced to release Grant, an opportunity the boy seized and ran to Adeline, clinging to her leg with both arms.

"Mom - Slade  _kidnapped_  us!"

"Mommy!" Joey exclaimed happily when he saw her, abandoning his uncle/boyfriend to run to her. She rested her hands on the their heads.

"Adeline, what the fuck are you doing here?" Slade rubbed at the bruise already forming on his jaw and if his glare wasn't venomous before then it certainly was now that his ex-missus entered the scene. Despite a punch being a usual greeting among them, it managed to worsen his mood. 

"I'm here for reasons that  _don't_  concern you." Adeline took Joey's hand, a clear barrier between Slade and their sons.

"Now  _what_  happened? What have  _you_  done this time?"

"By doing this, by your reasoning," he pursed his lips, "would  _I_  get out of it?"

"Half the shit you do doesn't come with a reasonable explanation so hell if I know."

"Lainey, I  _don't_  think he did this." Isherwood stepped in and Adeline regarded him out the corner of her eye, considering that might be the truth since  _he_  said it. She wasn't a huge fan of the honorary uncle after the whole scandal came out but that didn't diminish the respect they shared.

"Let's get out of the lobby and continue with this elsewhere." Adeline jerked her head down the hallway she'd come from then headed along it, guiding Grant and Joey by their hands. But she paused abruptly, looking over her shoulder to her ex.

"And Slade, if you're even  _thinking_  about slinking off and leaving this for me and David to handle, I will  _personally_  strangle you with your innards." The cold curt tone came with the dark warning glitter of her eyes fixed on Slade before she continued on her way. Damn that mind reader... was it  _that_  obvious that it wasn't his desire to linger? Yeah, sure, they were hitched for fifteen years but that shouldn't let Adeline know he was planning on bailing on this situation. 

He didn't like kids. They didn't like him. What was the point on staying again? 

"You're their father, Slade," Ish said as if hearing his thoughts. "You need to work on accountability." 

Slade shot him a death glare from the corner of his eye, his piece of advice extremely unwelcome. 

"And  _you_  need to stop screwing my son." 

The only reply was a huff and Isherwood handing Rose back to him, making an exception to their usual back-and-forth over the topic of Joey by not responding. He went after Adeline and Slade followed reluctantly.

"Da," Rose babbled, tugging at his hair with a clumsy hand. She was smiling brightly as sunshine,  like he'd never committed a single wrong towards her and it took staring intently at Adeline ahead of him to not be transfixed by that. He was aware Rose didn't hate him as bloodily as Grant did, but this was a totally new light on her face. He hadn't seen it before. 

Slade wasn't sure what to think of it.

* * *

 

"Their cells have been regressed some eighteen years of age. It's a perfect reductive process, intriguing how-"

"De-aged, Ish." Impatient, Slade cut in. "They've been  _de-aged_."

"That isn't a word,  _idiot_." Adeline snapped, almost biting his head off with the coldness.

"It  _is_  a word, you-"

" _Ahem_." Isherwood cleared his throat, pointing to the row of children. Leering to one another, Adeline and Slade hated each other in seething silence while Ish continued.

"I think I can reverse it-"

"Do it.  _Now_."

"-  _But_ , it will take a couple of days."

Heavily, Adeline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with lines of frustration creasing her brow. She held her face like that for a second before she looked up again.

"Slade, it  _pains_  me to say this but.... You need to take the boys."

"No."

"You  _have_  to." Her eyes narrowed. " _I_ can't - I need to lead a covert mission into Qurac-"

" _No_." He crossed his arms over his chest, staring her down without waver. She tipped her head back to vengefully meet his line of sight.

" _You_  are their  _father_ , Slade. Take some responsibility, it's only for a few days."

"Mom, don't make us go with  _him_." Grant whined brattily, tugging at his mother's sleeve. Just the notion of being separated from Adeline made Joey's lower lip quiver.

" _Mommy_..."

" _See_ , Adeline?" Slade gave a frustrated gesture to the boys.

"They  _hate_  me."

"We  _all_  do, Slade. You are the most rage-inducing man I have  _ever_  slept with-"

"I'm glad I stand out from the tens of men you've screwed."

"You're one to talk - how's your Cambodian whore?" 

" _Dead_. She's dead."

"And _who's_ fault is that?" 

"Which bitter old bitch issued a hit on mine and the whore's daughter?"

" _God_ , I hate you so much." She huffed and Slade would have made some fiery retort if Joey hadn't slipped a hand into his. It shouldn't have, nothing scared Deathstroke but that touch made him jump out of his skin. Adeline smirked like an animated snake.

"Daddy, we don't hate you," Joey sweetly assured him. "We just think you're really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really-" he took a deep breath. "-  _Really_  mean."

"And a bitch." Grant added.

"Yes, Grant, your father is a mean bitch," Adeline gave another sigh.

"But I need to go and  _Slade_ ," her gaze locked like steel on his. "Watch your children and if  _anything_  happens to them, I will kill you."

Scoffing, Slade rolled his eye when she marched out without heeding that the boys were calling after.

"Good luck, you stuck-up whore." Muttering under his breath, Slade made dark eyes at the floor. Now what? Now fucking what? He couldn't take care of a houseplant, much less his offspring.

He wondered if Wintergreen wanted to swoop in and take the kids....

Wordlessly, he left to go call the old bloke without asking Isherwood to watch the brood. He did hear the man sigh, however,  _deeply_.

* * *

 

Billy Wintergreen had known Slade since he was fifteen, and that was a whole lot of shit and hell he'd dealt with since then. Slade had fought thousands of men but he had proven time and time again to be his own worst enemy. Billy was retired from being Slade's sidekick and he said he was _out_ , on multiple occasions, but he still came running whenever that lunatic blond said he had a problem he needed help with.

 _Why_? Because Billy couldn't say no to Slade's obnoxious and crude personality. He had literally _zero_ redeeming qualities - he didn't even know how to express gratitude.

That being said, Billy was sure he'd seen every single circumstance Slade could  _possibly_  get himself into. But that was before he stepped into a Norwegian hotel room filled with three children. A brunet boy, playing a violent video game on a phone, a baby babbling to herself on the floor and perhaps most surprising was the smiling blond kid weaving braids and colourful plastic beads into Slade's hair.

Looking defeated, exhausted the way Billy had never seen him, Slade sat on the middle of the couch with his head tipped back, completely disregarding the little hairdresser standing next to him. He didn't even perk up when Billy came in, merely grumbled,

"Billy, they won't  _stop_."

It didn't take more than a glance for him to realise what he was seeing and many questions went through his head at once but most pertained to how the hell did Slade accomplish turning his  _adult_  children into...  _Children_?

"Slade...  _How_. Did you do this?"

"I didn't do  _anything_." He sat up from the slump, steadying Joey with a hand on his back to make sure the movement wouldn't make him fall. Billy's brows rose a fraction, he didn't think he'd ever seen Slade do anything  _mildly_  parental.

"Someone lured us to this damn frozen country - me, Grant, Rose, and Joseph - and the kids got hit with an energy beam that had age-regressing properties. Isherwood's looking at the weapon now, tryna figure out how to reverse this but..." He trailed off, so unlike himself as words dried up in his mouth. So that's what Slade Wilson looked like when he was unsure of a situation. Well, this was certainly a new treat. 

"But you don't know how to take care of your kids until Isherwood is done?" Billy didn't have a hesitant thought that therein lay the issue. Slade had spent the majority of Grant's and Joey's childhood overseas, fighting one war or other and hadn't known Rose existed until she was fourteen. His eldest may be twenty-five but he had close to no experience in caring for children. 

"At least tell me you've fed them today."

Slade nodded. "They ate kid food."

"I'm sorry -  _kid food_?" 

"Vending machine stuff." 

Eyeing the various colourful packets of candy and chips and other garbage spread around that Billy never thought to see Slade give anyone, he nodded stiffly. Seems like he had to give the merc a crash course in how to care for a human being.

"First off," Billy started while he plucked Rose out of the sea of junk food wrappers she was swimming in. She was sticky all over but persisted to smile. Adorable little thing.

"These kids are covered in sugar. They need a wash." 

"Fuck you and fuck your washes!" Grant yelled, finally looking up from the game. Billy breathed a quiet aching sigh under his breath when - again - it hit him that that boy was definitely his father's son. 

"Come on, Joseph," Slade rose with clear reluctance, sweeping his prettily braided hair behind his ear while he lifted his son. The boy came happily into his arms, which was another thing that was rare to see since Rose, Joey and Grant did everything in their power to avoid crossing paths with Slade -  _understandably_. 

"Daddy, can I finish making your hair pretty?" Joey requested with a tooth-decaying expression of pure sweetness, hopeful pastel green eyes locked on Slade as if he was a pleading puppy dog.

"What is it with you and dolling things up,  _faggot_?" By now, Grant had put his - or Slade's - phone down to fix a demanding, set expression onto his little brother, who shied into Slade's chest, away from the leer. 

"Grant, leave Joseph alone." Slade told him, equally as frightening as the boy was trying to make himself out to be and Billy took note of the tiny waver of another emotion crossing Grant's features. Pouting, he snatched the phone back up and frowned deeply at the screen, knees drawing to his chest.  

"I  _hate_  you, dad." Grant muttered, low, angry, and Slade paused carrying Joseph to the bathroom long enough to look at him. What he said sunk in and Billy noticed something in Slade's gaze shift between different mindstates also, a fete that was almost never seen but the merc brushed it aside quicker than it had come. 

"Billy, what water temperature doesn't boil kids?" 

"Room temperature, Slade,  _room_  temperature."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am way too tired to proof-read more than once, sorry for any abominations you might have witnessed.


	3. Awful Gets A Little Less Awful

The caress of Rose's soft sweet breaths on his arm took him very long - most of the night - to be accustomed to. At first, it made him uneasy. Was he supposed to  _like_  it when there was something  _breathing_  on him?  In his line of work, if it's dark and something is exhaling against you - you  _act_. But Slade couldn't act since moving an inch would wake the baby.

It was somewhere past midnight, Slade was laying on his back with Rose curled up in the crook of his arm. She started screaming whenever he tried to lay her down by herself so he'd become something of a life support machine hooked up to a critical patient.

For God couldn't say what reason, his daughter wanted to sleep next to  _him_.

That, by itself, had Slade doing mental gymnastics on the tries to understand and that was before the bedroom door creaked and Joey padded in, rubbing at his eyes, the sleepy yawn pushing his tongue out his mouth.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream..." He mumbled and Slade was about to make it apparent he couldn't control the imagery the subconscious broadcasted while the conscious mind was asleep, when Joey climbed up onto the bed, crawling across the surface and slumping beside him.

Slade froze, the sudden way he went entirely rigid causing Rose to stir but he couldn't help the discomfort of Joey settling next to him with a muffled inhale brushing on him that was as if someone was scraping the rusted prongs of a rake over his ribs. 

It was at that moment that Slade Wilson  _truly_  accepted he had issues. He could endure weeks of non-stop torture but his own children touching him was comparable to an acid burn.

"... Love you, daddy..." Those were the final barely coherent words before Joey passed out and Slade was glad he didn't have the window to respond because he wouldn't have. What do you say to a statement that comes like that, without any warning? Staying mum was the safest,  _surest_  bet. 

Slade was fairly sure he'd figured it all out. He and his kids were lured here, Joey's presence had to have something to do with Adeline and the oil rig where they were shot... the ray had initially been aimed at Slade but after he dodged it, it hit the children..... the metagene that ran in his family was easiest to access and manipulate before it had activated at a certain age. This wouldn't be the first time Adeline's agency tried to drill into his marrow to get hold of that rare genetic anomaly but they'd always lacked the balls to go for Grant, Joey, and Rose. 

If what Slade suspected was true, then there's no way Adeline was aware of it. She was a bitch but she was also a mama bear; fuck with her babies, prepared to get fucked up. The fact that Slade was half blind was a testimony to that.

Rose had drunk all the formula Wintergreen showed him how to make an hour or so ago and her bottle's the first thing she'd want when she woke up, which - since he couldn't sleep - he decided to go prepare. If he could help it, he'd like to avoid Rose soaking his shirt in drool with her attempts to suckle. Bitter disappointment that he was, eh?

Joey shifted the moment Slade moved, mumbling something incoherent in his sleep while his little tongue ghosted over his lips. Whatever he was dreaming about had him frowning. Was it normal for kids to do that? He pondered it while he went to half fill the bottle with water and add a tablespoon of the white powdery formula he initially thought was crack. 

Mixing the clumps out of the formula, Slade breathed slowly out when raking his hair out of his face meant his fingers got caught in the remaining beads and braids he couldn't get out. He'd removed half but the rest? Slade was beginning to fear scissors were his only option.

Thanks to the serum, his senses were heightened to a level that abled him to pick up on the subtle sounds in life that might go unnoticed by most, such as the whimpery breathing originating from the living room. It was Slade's habit - nay, his  _instinct_  to push those things out of his interest but before he'd gone to lend Ish a hand, Wintergreen had made him promise he wouldn't ignore it if one of the children caused a fuss or cried.

He wanted to but....  _curse_  his weakness! Slade must've sighed  from the bottom of his lungs when he caved and went to investigate. The search lead him to the living room Grant had claimed as his domain, the extent of what he was expecting was the brat watching Game of Thrones - which he'd been the last time Slade saw him - and now not being able to cope with the R rated material.  

He rolled his eye.   

"I told you there was blood in that show." He stepped around the couch, already prepared with the lecture of why  _listening_  could be beneficial but he didn't go into it since Grant was actually asleep. Curled up on his side, shaking, tiny whimpers quivering past his lips. Was he  _cold_? He didn't have a blanket or anything, just his tee and jeans which, admittedly, was of rather thin material. 

Slade had it on good authority that Grant would much rather freeze to death than take charity from him, as he'd once so wisely put it, but he couldn't exactly just leave the brat, could he? He opted to but instead, pulled the discarded comforter off the couch's headrest and spread it out over Grant, only when his hands brushed by him, he jumped as if cold water was splashed over him. 

Suddenly awake, Grant kicked Slade repeatedly kicked away from him in some fit of fever panic, pulling himself up and into the corner of the couch. The extent he was panting was worrying, drenched in a cold sweat and eyes wide,  _petrified_ , like he was somewhere else in his head, re-living the worse moments of his life. So... not cold, was it a nightmare? Apparently, kids had those and Slade himself could admit to experiencing one or two in his lifetime. They could get quite alarming.

That dad instinct he denied having overwrote the fact that this was the kid who'd rather boil himself alive than have any contact with him. Slade knelt by him and Grant couldn't keep his breathing from stumbling, eyes darting to things that weren't there. 

Here's a new challenge; verbally comforting a terrified child. Slade wasn't sure he even had words like that in his vocabulary. Well, he  _did_  but they only worked when it was part of a deception with the promise of gain if done correctly.

_Okay, just pretend you're manipulating your child into a false sense of security...._

Well, there was no point to that plan since when it appeared that Grant regained some awareness to his surroundings and registered his father two feet from him, he tried to hit him - Slade caught the small balled hand, of course, and then the next.

"Let me go! Slade - fucking  _let_  me go!" He thrashed and he pulled but needless to say, he was no match. Slade's DNA could be completely free of any serum and the kid still wouldn't be able to do a thing.

"You had a nightmare." Slade dully deadpanned, the kicks bouncing off his arms and chest too feebly to dignify with a reaction.

"And you have a fucking life of your own so go mind it!" Grant spat at him. If he kept yanking himself like this he'd tear his shoulders out their sockets but his stamina wasn't a slow steady burn, it was explosive and those flames were dying down. His struggles were lessening.

"And you're really fucking scary, Slade!" Hmm. That was true but an odd observation coming from Grant. Might have something to do with how his eyepatch was currently logged with Rose's drool (somehow) and he had only his hair to hide the gaping hole in his skull. It's not like it was  _visible_ , what's the problem?  

"Unless it's me you're having nightmares about-"

"You're the  _only_  person I have nightmares about."  _What_? He blinked once, twice. Was it strange that the statement actually got Slade off guard?.... _Nightmares_ about  _him_? 

"So let me go or I'll tell mom you hit me." The little behemoth threatened and yes, Adeline would believe him no question - Slade responded by releasing his hands but not for that aforementioned reason or any legs the threat had to stand on. He let go because he was too distracted by what Grant said, trying to understand why his own kid was put into such a state of terror by the mere idea of him. Sure, he was awful, the worst parent ever, insensitive and blatantly mean.... Slade wasn't denying any of that but was it really nightmare material? Or was this related to something other than his horrible personality? 

"Grant, what happened in your dream?" Slade asked since he really wanted to know. This whole thing bothered him to the marrow but he didn't know why. Lots of people had similar experiences of fear concerning Deathstroke so this really shouldn't press on his heart the way it did.

"I'm not talking to you." Grant seethed through his set teeth. "Fuck.  _Off_." 

Who knows if Slade would have persisted but Rose made the decision for him when she started crying. Or crying was one word for it, it sounded more like the air raid sirens going off to warn about incoming enemy aircrafts that Slade recalled clearly from his Iraq days. Good thing he wasn't in touch with emotions enough to develop PTSD 'cause this would have been an exceptional trigger. 

Slade abandoned any attempts to communicate with Grant in the hurry to tend to Rose before Joseph tried picking her up again, snatching the bottle from where he'd left it on the ground. Grant's gaze bore holes into his back but it felt like something  _other_  than anger. Maybe... no, the kid couldn't  _actually_  want to talk about the nightmare. He probably wanted his mother.

"Shh, it's alright, Rosie," Joey was awake by Rose's doing, patting her back in what he might think was soothing but it looked more like uncoordinated slaps that were only making her cry more.

"Joseph, don't touch her." Slade picked her up carefully off the bed, settling the sobbing thing against his shoulder, Joey's pale green eyes tracking every movement. He was... smiling, looking...  _energetic_? At this hour? Slade checked the time on the wall - five am - and he was sure that kids were supposed to be asleep when it was this late... or early. 

He tried not to focus on his seemingly nocturnal child and rather on the one who was crying her soul out. She kept screaming red-faced, her misery worsened by his presence it appeared and the whole thing was frustrating Slade when nothing he did could calm her. What was wrong with her and where the hell was Billy? For the majority, he was just testing the old guy's response reflexes when he said he needed help but this time, he actually did.

"Daddy," Joey said, barely audible over the baby shrieking in Slade's ear.

" _What_ , Joseph?" It was unintentional to snap like that but Joey was a hippy-dippy character even as a kid since he wasn't phased by the tone he was regarded in. He sat on the bed with his legs crossed, that ever-present smile lighting up his face in a situation where it was completely out of place.

"There's a big,  _big_  hole in your face.... I think it's scaring her."  _What_? Slade glanced at Joey, at a loss before he realised what he meant. The hair that had hidden his eye - or lack thereof - had gotten displaced from where he'd carefully positioned it, most likely during the fuss with Rose. 

Quickly, he concealed everything again, maybe less delicately than before but certainly with more coverage - not that Joey's damn beads and braids made that easy. God, he needed to get these things out. 

But despite his efforts, the damage was done, Rose's trauma was solidified on grounds almost as steadfast as her vocal range.  _Good Lord_ , this girl could hit high notes. Moments into her second wind and Slade was quite sure he'd burst his eardrums since the shrieking appeared to be petering out into teary mewls. Rose started suckling on his shirt and the saliva began sliding quickly after, down his back but he took that sensation over her practicing the fucking opera.

Did he say he  _didn't_  have PTSD? Well, after this experience, he might have PTSD. So said the thousand-yard stare fixed on the wall while he rocked Rose, shushing her every now and again when she started fussing. He didn't count how long it took but at some point, she was blissfully asleep. 

Okay, one kid had night terrors about him and the other went into a psychotic fit by seeing his face.... That was something to digest. Warily, he looked again to Joseph in his nest of blankets, playing some game where his hands were horses or goats or whatever hands looked like. It was surprising he was awake, even when there's no way he'd be sleeping through Rose's episode. 

Feeling his gaze, Joey glanced up from his make-belief game and his smile widened, reaching his eyes. Was he really  _that_  happy to be paid any attention?

"What is it, daddy?" Not waiting for the reply, he eagerly climbed out of his nest and crawled across the bed to sit by Slade on the edge of it, swinging his legs over the side. He was expectant when he faced Slade, not a hint of tiredness to be found.

"Joseph, I need to ask you a question," Slade exhaled, checking again that his hair was actually hiding what it was supposed to.

"Are you afraid of me?" That was harder to ask than it should have been. Since when did Deathstroke want someone to  _not_  be terrified of him? For whatever reason, it wasn't something he enjoyed feeling when it came to the kids and he really just needed Joey to respond negatively, but he was taking so long to reply....

Joey's gaze was directed upward, tongue popped out the side of his mouth, both traits he had when he was thinking really hard. He'd done it since childhood and -  _wow_. Slade didn't know he'd ever noticed his children had any quirks or unique attributes to the things they did.

" _Well_...." Joey finally broke the silence with a purposeful, intent start to his sentence. Slade was still unaccustomed to him speaking in his own voice and not some computerized mimicry of it. It was... eerie, a little. As if a ghost was talking through him.

"I think you're quite tall."... No shit. Was that really the extent of his observations after the five minutes he mulled it over for?

"And are you afraid of me because you're smaller?" By about three meters. Slade was trying and struggling to find any logic behind Joey's words. 

"No..." 

"Then  _what_?" 

"What?" Joey blinked rapidly, confused now.

"Are you  _afraid_  of me?" At this rate, he'd be lucky to get the boy to spill before the sun came up. Was he bipolar or just really,  _really_  slow? Wait - calling your child slow was wrong somehow, wasn't it? God, there were so many things that were offensive to all of a sudden that Slade needed to delete half of his know-how when it came to responding to Grant, Rose, and Joey. Billy specifically told him derogatory terms were a no-go for the kids. 

They're  _just_  words.

Joey yawned widely instead of answering, mumbling,

"I'm gonna go back to sleep, daddy." He pawed at his eyes and this tsunami of flash flood tiredness had absolutely no origin. It was out of the blue and Slade suspected it was his way of avoiding the topic.

"Night." Don't hit him. Do  _not_  hit him. He had to force that thought over his instincts when Joey kissed his shoulder, the abrupt way he moved something Slade's head immediately told him was a threatening approach instead of what it actually was. Why was Joseph  _kissing_  him, by the way? Must be a gay thing.... 

So Grant had nightmares about him, Rose screamed herself raw because of him, and Joey had his mother's indecisiveness and was as spineless as putty. 

There were so many issues for Slade to ruminate on for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 

"Billy, why do my kids have nightmares about me?" 

Stirring the kids' lunch in the skillet, Billy arched a brow, glancing over at Slade leaning on the kitchen counter, holding Rose's bottle for her. The little girl was happy this afternoon, comfortably nestled in the crook of her father's arm and she drank with enthusiasm.

"Do you  _really_  need me to answer that?"

The look Slade gave him said yes, dead set serious in the inquiry as if it was unreasonable for the children to fear him. How could he be so unaware of himself that he didn't realise he terrified most seasoned military commanders? Of course, a bunch of under ten-year-olds would be frightened as well. Although Billy was quite sure Rose and Joey harbored a deep-rooted fear of Slade into adulthood, maybe Grant, too....

"You're.... quite  _difficult_." Billy sighed on the last letter, putting more effort into stirring the tomato soup with the wooden ladle. He'd just knowingly made the understatement of the century but try as he might, there wasn't a more descriptive word for Slade since  _difficult_  just about covered all of his negative traits. Impossible was another good one, though.

"Grant was petrified of me last night." The merc continued talking but to himself, it sounded. He adjusted the angle of Rose's bottle when it was nearing empty to keep her from inhaling any air bubbles. At least he was a quick study since Billy didn't think he could take constantly repeating the same basic things to Slade. 

"And Rose started screaming...." As if conscious of it for the first time, Slade's fingers ghosted over his eyepatch since he'd put it back on quite soon after the fiasco in the AMs that Billy was made aware of.

"Babies are scared easily, Slade. Especially by mons-" Slade glanced at him before he could finish that sentence and the initial word dried up in his mouth.

"- _strous_.  _Monstrous_  deformities and/or wounds." With a breath, he finished that quick, suffering whiplash from how fast he needed to change his initial meaning.

"I'm not afraid of descriptions, Billy."

"I know." He stirred with more intent, that near slip of the tongue could have had some explaining coming after since Joey was colouring at the table less than three meters away. He'd probably want to know why his daddy fit the description of a monster.

The boy might appear to be busy but he was very in tune to what the adults were talking about, the occasions he added his own input to the conversation was proof of that.

"Slade, you don't hide it from the kids that you're the world's most feared contract killer, could that contribute to their negative feelings about you?" Billy suggested, hoping a different, more explanatory approach would get the obvious through to Slade.

"Rose and Grant are both mercenaries and Joey's...." Slade gestured to Joseph, colouring a unicorn with every shade of crayon he had until it looked like a horse-shaped rainbow. It distracted him from his initial topic.

".... How did I  _not_  realise he's gay?" 

"He's bisexual." Billy corrected with a cocked eyebrow and Slade just shrugged without a whole lot of interest.

"Same thing."

"It's actually not." 

"It is if he sucks guys off -  _speak._ Of _._  The devil." Slade rolled his eye with a displeased, forceful exhale when Isherwood came in, tightening his arms around Rose until she glanced up at her father in confusion, no doubt questioning how protective he got. Honestly, Billy was wondering that too. Someone really had to make Slade understand that Ish wasn't out to date all of his children and that the man  _wasn't_  a paedophile. Sure, it was really weird what he had going on with Joseph but they were two consenting adults.... most days. 

"Hello, Davey!" Joey waved eagerly to Isherwood, garnering a smile from the man that made Slade scowl more intently than before. He snatched Joseph from his seat by the table and tucked the boy beneath his arm, baring his teeth at Ish like some kind of animal.

"You don't need to  _look_  at them, Ish." Slade growled. "You only need to tell me if you've got that cure yet."

By now, Slade's irrational, unreasonable behavior was so commonplace that Isherwood was immune to taking offense and couldn't garner an original reaction, he just gave a look that said  _really_? But this was old news. Billy would regret to inform Ish that Slade would never  _ever_  let that thing between Joey and him go. They could break up or one of them could die but the earth wouldn't be smoothed over even if it cured cancer. 

"No, I haven't got it  _yet_." Ish said, unamused by how Slade's stance was actually defensive as if a fight was on the horizon. Clearly uncomfortable, Joseph was trying to slide to freedom from the prison his father's arm had formed across his middle.

"Slade, you're squeezing him too hard." Ish made a move to take Joseph off him and it was a miracle that he didn't get his face kicked in. Slade decided the more passive reaction of taking a step back. Slade Wilson being  _passive_? Maybe these kids were a good influence on him... or reason enough to control himself.

"Quit hissin', Wilson." Ish folded his arms, already done with this. "You sound like a snake."

"Interesting thought," Slade tipped his snowy head, eye narrowing. "Do you view people who sleep with kids they've known since infanthood as snakes?"

"I swear to god if this comes up one more time during this conversation I won't reverse the age regression."

"Well there are plenty of blonds in the world for you to get your cradle-robbing hands on so you won't miss my son too much, I'm sure." 

It was bruising when the sudden weight of Ish's gaze landed so heavily on Billy as if he was Slade's handler.... well, he was but it's not like he could  _control_  that man. No one could. 

"Wintergreen, can you  _please_  explain to him that-"

"Let's not talk about Joseph anymore." As he spoke, Billy took Joey from the vice-hold his father had on him and put the boy on his feet, ushering him out of the kitchen to go play elsewhere.

"How's the cure coming?"

"Slowly but it's coming." Ish sighed and he readily accepted the coffee mug Billy extended to him, wrapping his hands around it with a nod of gratitude. While Slade had been minding his kids and Billy had been minding  _him_ , Ish had put in two all-nighters already, trying to fix this. He looked drop-dead tired.  

Of course, Slade wasn't making his life any easier. 

"How long do you think still?"

Ish shrugged one shoulder, taking a tip of the scalding drink, seemingly without burning himself when he swallowed.

"A day. Two days?"  Right. That shouldn't be too bad. Slade might make it that long but actually, he was doing a lot better than Billie had dared to expect. Quite honestly, he'd not trusted Slade to be able to take care of his kids for an hour alone but was pleasantly surprised he wasn't as useless as a parent as his reluctance to be one might suggest. Sure, the children were terrified of him but that was a given. 

"Daddy," Joey popped back into the kitchen and Billy started counting down the five seconds he gave before Slade grabbed him again. One, two, three..

Joey walked up to his father and tipped his head as far back as his neck would allow, staring up at him, entangling his and Slade's gazes.

"Daddy, I can't find Grant."  

With an unsteady, controlled inhale and adjusting Rose, Slade lowered himself onto one knee with his spare hand landing on Joey's shoulder.

"Joseph, people sometimes hide from you because you're  _incredibly_  irritating."

" _Slade_." The merc didn't waste his eyesight by acknowledging Billy's warning tone and still, Joey remained persistent with his story.

"I think he's gone out. I saw a boy that looked like him from the window."  

"There are  _so_  many children in the world with brown hair that you would not  _believe_ , Joseph."  

Scoffing, Billy bent just enough to take Rose off him and jerk his head towards the door.

"He's  _seven_ , Slade. Go find your son before he gets lost. There's a blizzard rolling in." Grant had a tendency to run off whenever he so felt, he'd been doing it since his early teen years and if it weren't for that tidbit, Slade would have been  _utterly_  unconvinced he should go. Even though, he rose with an irritable sigh and by Joey's arm, guided him to his uncle Billy.

"Don't let Ish near him." He was off after that, taking his time in the lobby since where the hell did that kid actually have to go?  This was a foreign country where he knew no one and didn't understand the language.... or did that just make it worse? 

Either way, Slade was confident he could take care of himself. He might not presently be a six-foot powerhouse with martial arts training and supersoldier serum coursing through his veins but he'd be  _fine_.

The fact that Slade hurried his pace did  _not_  mean he was the least bit concerned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Slade, of course your kids are afraid of you!


	4. Awful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got way longer than intended.

The horrible constrictive burn lit up Grant's chest every time exhaustion got the better of him and the ball of fire only became bigger the further into sleep he fell, which is when the nightmare would fully kick into 100. Inside, he'd thrash and scream for the pain to end but his body refused to move, shutting down all at once. 

This was when the third phase of the nightmare began. Enter his father. Now, Slade rarely hurt him when he showed up but his were the only discernible features Grant remembered when  he woke up and it was involuntary to associate him as the featured monster. In one instance, Grant had been drowning in something thick and black, tar perhaps, crying out to Slade, who'd stood by and watched him sink.

No part of him thought that couldn't happen, Slade would always find more important things to do than protect him from anything. 

Grant just wanted to get away from him, so far, no matter how cold it was out here in the snowfall. The howling wind bit at his numbing flesh, the small icy teeth of unseen wintry demons nibbling away at his cheeks and nose. He pulled his hoodie around himself tighter when a violent shiver went through him. His breath turned to puffs of fine white mist billowing towards the dark heavens, vanishing into nothingness within seconds.  

God, he was so cold and by the look of it, the blizzard was only picking up. Freezing gusts pounded at him on the left, forcing him to veer as he walked, dragging his feet through the thick blanket of snow but the tracks he made were getting covered almost at once. This had been a horrible idea from the beginning but Slade's presence made his nightmares real and distance was the only thing that would help. That had  _ever_  helped. 

Breathing raspy and shallow, he stumbled down another new alleyway, beyond lost at this point. He'd been out on his own for around two to three hours by now and his body was beginning to scream from these harsh conditions but even if he did know his way back to the hotel, Grant wouldn't go back there. 

He was beginning to feel nothing except his dizziness when he bumped into a solid mass. Groggy from exposure, disoriented, Grant blinked in confusion at the man standing above him. At first, he was afraid that maybe Slade found him? But no, the hands that closed on his shoulders were unfamiliar.

"Grant Wilson?" The big man knelt to his level and he was too out of his head to do anything but nod jerkily. The man was warm and Grant was drawn to him instantly.

He didn't wonder how his name was known.

"Lad, I need you to come with me."

"Wh... Why?" It made no sense to his foggy brain and he didn't step back when arms closed around him and he was hoisted off the ground. Exhausted as he was, Grant slumped into him.

"This ain't personal, kid." He said but it sounded like a whisper, about the last thing Grant was aware of before he blacked out. He must be pretty damn close to hypothermia if the way he was teetering in and out of consciousness intermittently was anything to go by. 

Breaks screeched and something like a rusty van door rattled back on its track, whatever crumbs of survival instincts there were in him stirred with the knowledge that this was bad only he didn't have the strength he needed to protest. He was too cold.

"We need to drill into the kid's marrow to get the metagene sample." The man carrying Grant commented to the driver as he got into the car, his voice sounding far away like they were separated by a body of water.

"Won't that.... Be painful?" Another asked. The driver, perhaps.

"Not our problem."  He gave a disinterested shrug as he set Grant's half-senseless form down on something.

With a loud scrape, the handbrake was pulled but the vehicle couldn't get into motion before metal screeched and indented under the impact of something hitting the side of the van. Then tearing through it.

The men who brought him here, they didn't even have a chance to finish their screams by the time Deathstroke's swords plowed through their chests.

With a flick of his wrists, Slade slit the men through their middles, pulling the serrated blades out of flesh and bone like it was nothing. Wails exploded with blood splatter but he didn't pay it attention, not since Grant was on the floor over there, not moving.

"Grant," Slade knelt by him while rivers of red leaked across the ground, rolling his son onto his back. He was too cold, pulse too low.  _Hypothermia?_  Crap. Slade yanked his balaclava off and pressed his ear against Grant's chest, relieved when he heard the  _thump-thump-thump_  of his heart, slow but present.

Slade gave a sigh of relief, pulling the upper part of his suit off and plucking his son into his arms, adjusting the garment around him. Kevlar and metal plates aside, Deathstroke's uniform came with a built-in heat regulation system against weather like this, it'd get the boy's body heat closer to a safe temperature. 

"Dammit, Grant, can't you go a day without doing something stupid?" Slade grumbled to himself, beneath his breath, securing his now bare arms around the boy. Heatwaves radiated from the suit, already doing its part to fend off the cold. 

Whoever those men were, they couldn't have been acting alone, most likely they were under the command of the same person who was responsible for this age regression bullshit. He'd deal with them later.

"D - dad..." Grant whimpered, feebly into Slade's chest when he stepped out of the vehicle. The weak little voice made his attention spike since..... Grant  _never_  called him dad. Just Slade and colorful profanities on the occasion.

"... 'M cold." He whined to which Slade responded to with a hum. Oh, he bet the kid was pretty damn cold. That aside, he felt like he should say something comforting but.... he didn't know how. Dammit, he'd just have to try.

"I know, son. We're going back to the hotel now, alright? Just don't fall asleep." While he spoke, he pressed the comm in his ear on and he'd be pretty fucking grateful if by some miracle, the signal wasn't jammed by this storm. Fortunately, he wasn't so far from Wintergreen's location to not be able to connect to him, weather be damned.

_"Have you got Grant?"_

"Yes, and I need a lift. I'm at the North West city district, by a road leading out of the city with a broke down van. Hurry up, I'm worried Grant might have hypothermia."  

_"Wh - t? Sl - e, I didn't catch yo - r locatio-"_

The line went dead without the last letter of the word and the rising howl of the wind sounded like a mocking cackle.  _Fuck_  snow. Slade  _hated_  snow.  That option outweighed by the circumstances, he glanced around him for another plan when he remembered,  _hello_ , there was a perfectly good vehicle behind him that those men had used. Ugh, the cold must be freezing his brain over. 

He yanked the door open and lifted Grant in, carefully closing the belt around him. The boy stared dully at his hands as he did, blinking slowly  as if his surroundings weren't properly registering. 

" _Grant_ ," Slade took his face, directing his sluggish gaze to himself. "I need you to tell me something. Keep talking."

"Wh... what?" 

"Uhm.... name all the reasons you hate me." That should keep the mite busy and awake, Grant could really go off on that particular topic, he literally had an alphabetized list of 'this is why I hate yous' that he'd spend all day on if given the chance. Slade circled the vehicle and got into the driver's side, turning the keys conveniently left in the ignition and to his relief, the thing started.

".... You let Joey get hurt." Grant began, groggy though he was his first point was clear and cut deep. He'd thought he'd become numb to it but Slade winced at the memory. Yes, it was his fault that Joseph was mute. Not a bad reason to hate him. Not bad at all.

He thought about that as he tried to focus on where the road was. With the white banks and blast of snow, it was hard to make out where the ditches were.

"You cheated on mom." Ah, right. Rose, now that was always a touchy topic between them. Another fine and understandable piece of reasoning. With him and Adeline, the cheating went back and forth like a game they had but for whatever reason, Grant never brought up his mother's side of their problems. 

"You were never home." From the corner of his eye, Slade glanced at him. That seemed to be somehow rawer than those previously named things, even when the kids didn't like him at all, why the hell would they want him to be home? Slade purposefully spent as much time away from them as possible since A, Deathstroke was never lacking for work and B.... wasn't that healthier for Grant and Joseph?  _Safer_?

" _Grant_ ," Slade exhaled under his breath, already at a loss. "Look, I would have been home more often if it was best for you and Joey. I didn't want you kids getting hurt by my work and... I'm not any good at being a parent." Why was he explaining himself to a delirious child? He didn't know, just part of him wanted to seize the opportunity to try to make his reasons known to Grant while he could, he'd never listen once reverted back to his own age. And they weren't even good excuses he had, so maybe Grant wasn't so wrong for ignoring them.

"You never tried." Grant gave a quiet sigh, leaning against the door and watching the painfully white scenery as it zipped by. His fingers tightened around his upper arm and though they weren't facing one another, Slade could see from the reflection of the window that he looked.... upset. Grant  _didn't_  get upset. He didn't even have that emotion in his body.

Billy often brought it to Slade's attention that some people did, in fact, possess emotions even if they didn't show them as often. Perhaps Grant wasn't as sociopathic as Slade had self-diagnosed him.

"I know it isn't worth anything, Grant," Slade turned back to the road. "But I am sorry.... for everything that happened to you and your siblings because of me."

".... You don't mean that. You taught me to trust actions, not words, and you don't act sorry." Ouch. Why'd Slade have to influence Grant's thought process to match his own? Of course, words weren't to be trusted in any case,  _ever_ , not that a seven-year-old should know that. Didn't mean he wasn't sincere with them, though. But saying sorry wasn't a magic word that took everything back, so why bother with it?

"You're right, I don't. I..." He started that line without realising he didn't know how to bring it to a close. He  _what_? Wasn't remorseful enough to act the part? Another thing he had no idea how to do. Good god, he needed to learn how to at least pretend he could behave normally when it was required. 

Snapping Slade out of his ruminating, Grant coughed raggedly, curling into a tighter ball, all bundled up in the suit that had restored some pallor to his skin but he was still shaking. However, it may not be hypothermia like Slade had feared, given how he'd not be this talkative if it was. That was something. 

"I don't think I like Norway very much." Grant whined into his knees while Slade turned the heating higher.

"Me neither."

* * *

 

Grant was feeling well enough to walk by the time they got back to the hotel, or at least he claimed he was but Slade still took it upon himself to carry him. With how sleepy he was, he'd probably collapse and hit his head on a wall. And good thing he made that choice as his son was passed out by the time they got back to where he left Billy with the kids and...  _Isherwood_. 

" _Slade_ , you've got him," Billy was by the door, waiting anxiously and up like a loyal dog when he came in.

"Is he alright?"

"He's just cold. First stages of hypothermia, I think." Slade briefly explained, already laying Grant down on the couch and pulling a blanket over him. The boy snuggled instinctively deeper into the soft cushions, pressing his eyes tighter shut. He looked okay. He looked fine. 

"I'll go put the kettle on. You both look a little chilled." Billy swept out of the room before Slade could agree with a quiet nod, gradually aware of the drain prolonged exposure to this awful weather could have on him; he was drowsy but instead of focusing on that, he decided to go make sure Ish was nowhere near Rose or Joey.  _Especially_  Joey.

Fortunately, it seemed like Ish buggered off to work on that cure again and left the kids to be safe and totally innocent, playing amongst themselves in the bedroom. Joey was doing that hand game thing of his again and Rose had her head up an empty cereal box. 

" _Daddy-_!" Joey exclaimed with delight lighting up his face the second Slade came into sight, bouncing off the bed and cannon-balling into his father's chest. Choking, Slade came close to having the wind knocked out of him, barely catching the crazy child before he would have been met with a face full of the rug. 

" _Joseph_ ," he coughed, adjusting his grip on Joey. "Don't do that to people.  _Please_." He'd taken a punch to the ribs from Superman and felt just fine but that  _hurt_. From the moment he spoke and Rose heard his voice, she came alert and glanced around her but needless to say, the box over her head severely impaired her vision.

Setting Joey back on the bed, Slade picked his baby daughter up and removed the thing from over her - which, lord knows how she got herself stuck in to begin with.

"Da," Rose smiled as broadly as she could, patting him on the side of his face in greeting. Why was she so happy to see him? And why was Joey? Slade, for all his heightened intellect, couldn't understand the phenomenon.  

"Hello again, Rose." He smiled faintly at her, something about her purely innocent expression dragging it out of him. Same as the kiss he planted on her cheek before he sat next to Joey on the edge of the bed, Rose still in the crook of his arm. 

"Did Ish bother you?"  

"No, daddy. Don't worry, he's not that bad." Joey assured him and Slade did wish he could take him for his word and confidence, but he knew well better. That man shouldn't be allowed within ten miles of a playground. 

With a sigh that turned into a yawn, Slade laid on his back and stared at the visible paint strokes on the ceiling, Rose squirming to sit and he gave her a hand up. She slapped at his chest playfully but he wasn't in the mood to toy around with her, not that he really knew how. Dramatically, Joey threw himself down beside Slade and rolled into his side, wrapping both arms about one of his. 

"Daddy, do you think we can go make a snowman later?" 

"Maybe." Eye shut, Slade murmured a milder version of absolutely fucking not. No frozen balls stacked atop one another to make men with creepy glittering coal smiles. Thank you, none of that shit. 

"We can give it a  _hat_..." Joey planned on while Slade added input where it was needed but for the most part, the boy was talking to himself. Funny how he'd forgotten how damn much Joey liked talking but it happened considering he was normally mute.

Slade didn't like the thought of him losing his voice again when this was all dealt with. It wasn't right but there was no such thing as fair. So, with what time there was left, he let Joey chatter his heart out. 

Yawning, rubbing at her eyes, Rose lost her playful streak rather quick and seeing the way she swayed, Slade carefully pulled her beside him before she fell off the bed or something else that unpreferable. She snuggled into his side with a content breath. 

A little while passed and he must've begun to drift off since Slade was vaguely aware of a third child joining their party of three and hesitantly laying down with Joey sandwiched between them. Unconsciously, Slade felt around until he found Grant and pulled him nearer. For once, he didn't protest.

* * *

 

  
 Billy was gone for less than twenty minutes and when he came back into the living room with the coffee he could tell Slade badly needed, there wasn't a Wilson to be found. Not an angry cold glare or silvery white hair anywhere. He checked the bedroom next and all those times he'd thought 'right, Slade can't surprise me anymore' were set straight when he came upon the merc asleep with three kids nuzzled up to him, Rose on one side with the boys on the other. Grant's arms were wrapped about Joey, who was clinging onto his father like he was a lifeline, little limbs barely fitting over half of Slade's chest. 

Billy was pleased, regaining some hope in Slade to see that he'd kept Rose on her own side to prevent any chance the boys might hurt her with how much they tossed in their sleep. On her belly with a fist against her mouth the way only babies did, Rose had pressed herself into Slade as close as she could be with his hand carefully over her back to make sure she didn't roll anywhere. 

If you'd told Billy that one day  _Deathstroke_  would make him go  _aww_ , he'd have diagnosed you as a pathological liar but he stood corrected. No one would believe him, hence why Billy snapped a picture with his phone's camera and made a beeline to forward it to Adeline. She'd either lose her shit or reluctantly regain a little faith in her ex.

The phone buzzed angrily near the instant he pressed send and grinning to himself, Billy answered while he lifted it to his ear.

_"What the fuck, Wintergreen? Are the boys dead?"_

"They're sleeping." He replied, calm despite her raised tone.

_"Did Slade fucking drug them? Are they alright?"_

"No, Lainey, and yes. No, they're not drugged and yes, they're fine." Best to leave out the part where Slade lost Grant for three hours only slightly earlier. Adeline would make good on her promise to kill him.

_".... Why are they sleeping next to him then? They wouldn't do that willingly."_

"Well, they did. Apparently, as kids, they don't hate their father."

_"Not even Grant?"_

Billy tipped his head with a hmm. "Debatable.... A bit."

 _"He's a good boy."_  He heard the distinct sound of her sneering into the receiver and knew that was the moment to hang up, he didn't want her to wake the kids, after all. And...  Billy could only take that nerve-grating woman in controlled portions. How Slade stayed married to her for fifteen years was beyond him but then he wasn't in her company majority of the time, so perhaps therein lay the key.

Billy left them sleeping after that and went to lend Ish a hand.

* * *

 

It betrayed his character for every trait he had but Slade would have secretly preferred that Isherwood would have taken longer than he eventually did. He might have preferred rolling a ball to Rose and having her push it back over the man appearing and saying his cure was ready. Slade had gotten a little attached to the versions of his kids who could be around him without pitchforks and torches, despite that he'd earned himself that treatment. In the wake of rescuing him, even Grant had gotten a little bit less verbal with hating him, which was a milestone he thought they'd never reach.

Grim though he shouldn't be, Slade picked Rose up and then Joey, gesturing for Grant to follow to the room next door where Ish had all of his equipment set up. 

"I'll take Grant first," Ish said and Slade got defensive before he could help it. Experience,  _alright_?

"Like hell you will, Isherwood." He bristled, teeth bared. He knew what the man meant but he didn't trust it over instinct, still he took Grant by his hand and guided him there with a whole lot of warning glares towards Isherwood. He was walking on a knife's serrated edge.

"You might, uhm," Ish gestured to Grant awkwardly. "You may wanna undress him."

"You  _sick_  fucking-" Billy's arm appearing across Slade's chest was the sole barrier that saved Isherwood from a broken limb.

"He could get hurt if the collar of his shirt cuts into him or something like that, Slade." Billy explained. "He's gonna grow to three times his current size, remember?" Oh right, in that alignment, Slade supposed it made sense but that was only since his trusted Wintergreen worded it. If it had come from Ish's deceptive mouth than the merc would have torn his jaw off its hinges.

"Hold her." Slade put Rose into Billy's arms and retrieved an armful of those big fluffy white towels the hotel provided, kneeling by Grant and pulling down the zipper of his hoodie. He removed the garment then took the same approach with the T-shirt, silently disbelieving that he wasn't cursed at in three different languages for touching Grant. Usually, a glance would be enough to trigger that verbal onslaught.

"Grant, the rest you can probably do by yourself." Slade adjusted one of the towels around Grant and he nodded. Lately, he hadn't been as verbally abusive as he normally was and that worried his father to a degree. 

While Ish injected clear serum into the inside of Grant's elbow, Billy got Joey ready for the procedure while Slade did the same with Rose, swaddling her in a towel and kissing the top of her head as he held her to his chest, watching as the cure began to take effect. At first, it was gradual, very gradual, visible only in the slight twitch of Grant's muscles but quicker than Slade steeled himself for, his son was convulsing, his bones cracking, joints popping and muscles tearing as his body remodeled itself entirely. When he screamed was when Slade tensed, almost going to him but there was nothing he could do, nothing he  _should_  do since this had to happen.

It didn't make it easy to watch. 

At least the transformation was fast, it had Grant back to his real age in under three minutes, panting and shaking from the pain that came with his whole skeletal system breaking to age him up eighteen years in such a tiny time gap. Without his accelerated healing, he'd be in a much worse way. 

Confused, afraid, Grant's eyes darted between them from where he was rapidly picking himself off the floor, the towel around his waist the only thing keeping him from being completely in the nude. Yeah, Slade could see how this might be a frightening thing to come around to, given how he was in a dull hotel room, mostly naked and surrounded by a bunch of creepy middle-aged men.

Slade was well aware he was creepy, by the way.

"Wh - what the hell -  _Slade_ , what the fuck have you done to me?" Ah, there was that familiar hate-filled glare. Slade didn't feel so concerned anymore. He gave Rose to Billy just in time to catch Grant when he stood too quickly and a rush of dizziness nearly knocked him over. 

" _Ish_?" Slade arched a brow in question towards Isherwood, arms caging Grant while he panted like an animal starving for water, distracted by his head swimming enough to not land his father a punch for touching him. 

"Dizziness is a possible side effect of the procedure," Ish explained, already shooting Joey up. "And nausea, vomiting, stuff like that." 

Slade nodded in silence to himself, Grant's hair ticklish against his skin. As he got older, Grant's locks had transformed from the floppy mess that covered one eye like that emo kid who sits in the back of the class to a nest of spikes that were unpleasant to rest one's chin on, but Slade did it anyway. Grant was too deep in the side effects to swat him away so he'd appreciate this while he still could.

"Billy, put Rose down and can you go grab the kids' clothes?" They might like that. He'd kept their uniforms and the things they wore beneath those, stowed away in the other room. Billy even washed and pressed them for some reason. 

As much as he'd like to center all of his attention on his eldest right now, Joey was beginning to experience the reversal and Slade had to lower Grant onto the floor where he pulled himself into the wall, still breathing heavily against nausea. Hopefully, he could keep his guts down while Slade tended to Joseph, except he didn't really have to with Isherwood there, holding Joseph against his writhing, whispering comforting sweet things to him. 

Slade  _barely_  stopped himself from twisting the man's head off his shoulders but the cold reality was that Joey would much prefer his boyfriend's comfort to any of the menial things his father could do.

It sent chills down his spine to see Ish's arms around his son. 

"Are you alright, honey?" Ish asked and Joey gave a stiff nod, swallowing down a bout of nausea. He was leaning into Ish's chest while the  _considerably_  older man planted a kiss onto the nape of his neck, subsequently making Slade's stomach flip. Okay,  _fuck_ , that was  _disgusting_.

Grant was watching Rose crawling around under the towel from the corner of his eye. The confusion and questions were written in the lines of his frown.

"What the fuck, Slade?" His cool blue gaze fixed on Slade slowly with the question.

"Age-regression. That's Rose. You've been stuck as a seven-year-old for the past five days."

" _Seriously_?" Both his brows rose and when he saw Slade wasn't joking, he scoffed, grinning sarcastically to himself.

"You keep us locked in some damn box for that time?"

Slade ignored that question, collecting Rose off the floor and readjusting the towel around her tiny body. She was smiling so brightly that Slade didn't want to inject her with the serum he knew would take away her innocence all over again. He didn't want to so he had Billy do it when he came back, handing Grant's suit to him and tossing Joey's over.

Slade went outside, into the hall because he honestly couldn't bear his daughter screaming from the pain her brothers had barely stomached. She liked Billy much better than him, she'd be okay with him there. Better perhaps.

There go the kids not hating him with every year of age they regained.

He was..... Going to miss them being little, even that monster Grant. This had been a nice reflection on how his children had been perfectly normal sweet things until Deathstroke ruined them.... No, not Deathstroke, that was pushing blame away from himself.  _He_  ruined his kids. Slade Wilson did that.

Reluctantly, he went back inside after a bit, unable to keep guessing what was going on since it drove his nerves tight enough to snap.

Curled up in a corner of the room, Rose was sobbing into her knees, so hard she shook. Billy was trying to comfort her, find out what was wrong and Joey would be there too if he could stand past his dizziness. Slade noticed with a grim clarity that Grant was gone, his suit with him and the window was open.

Except he couldn't focus on Grant right now. He wanted to go after him but he couldn't, not with Rose like this, near inconsolable.

"What's wrong with her?" Slade asked of Billy while he knelt by his daughter, pulling her into his arms against her trying to hit him in her fit of rampant emotions.

"I don't know, she just started crying." Billy was slightly distressed himself at his inability to do anything.

"The procedure may include some emotional strain." Ish unhelpfully added since it  _wasn't_  obvious that Rose was under strain. Slade sent him a silencing glare before he turned his attention to Rose.

"Rose, I need you to calm down,  _alright_? You're going to hyperventilate." He tightened his grip around her, holding her violently shaking body against his own, her trembles reverberating through him.

"Sweetheart, listen to me; you were hit with an age regression ray and it was just reversed, that's why you're feeling like this but tough it out, okay? I know you can." Not the most sympathetic line in the world but it was the best he could do. He was  _trying_ , alright?

Taking him aback ( _maybe_  scaring him), Rose's arms roughly found their way around his neck and held onto him like a lifeline. Alarmed, Slade glanced to Billy for help in the situation but by the look, he wasn't getting it.

Awkwardly, he put his hands on her back.

"It's alright, Rosie. It's okay."

* * *

 

Joey and Ish took their leave quick, probably since they could tell Slade was losing his battle with restraint. One more minute of that man touching his son and the merc would not be able to pull himself back from the urge to snap his neck.

Rose wasn't 100% even after given a few hours and Billy opted to take her back to California. Slade didn't say anything and put his attention towards tracking down whoever initiated this whole mess and dared to attempt kidnapping one of his children. Someone was after the metagene, what else is new? It was probably Adeline's stupid agency.

Unrelated but holding his attention equally, Billy sent him an image. Of him. And the kids. Sleeping. Slade wanted to delete the damn thing from the moment it pulled up on the screen but he was caught in a lingering stare, zoomed into Grant, Joey, and Rose, all so oblivious to the nightmare jigsaw their lives really were. 

He might keep that photo, he didn't have one of the kids all together.

Shutting the phone off, dropping it into his pocket, he turned slowly on his heel until he was face-to-face with an intimidating six-foot-something man, his eyes intently fixed on Slade through the ruby red lenses covering them. With his sleek grey, black, and ash white armor, swords at his back and guns strapped onto every limb he had, you might think he was here for war. 

"Grant, I'm  _still_  not going to fight you so run along, munchkin. Daddy's got work to do." Slade told him, sighing underneath his breath but he muffled the sound when he pulled his balaclava into place. Grant didn't go anywhere,  _as_   _expected_ , but there was also no swish of his swords being drawn or click of the safety going off.

"Wintergreen told me...." Grant started, hesitantly, slowly. "That... someone tried to capture me?"

"Yes." He nodded but why did Billy tell him that? Why did Grant even care? It was over now, they could move on and pretend the last week never happened.

"Someone wanted the metagene, still do, and they were willing to  _dissect_  you for it." 

Grant's eyes were too well hidden by his mask to see but by the slight slant in the angle of his chin, Slade could guess his gaze became slightly downcast there. His hand tightened around his upper arm, that familiar gesture of uncertainty.

"... Why didn't you let them?"

"Because.... you're my son." He simply replied, shocked that Grant would actually think he'd let anyone cut into him the way those men intended. His kids really did have a warped perception of him and that was all his doing. Every thought and fear, in place because of his own colossal failures as a parent. 

"Well.... I don't want any more fucking favors from you. I don't need your damn protection." Regaining his aggressive tone, Grant shouldered past Slade on his way to locations unknown and his father would have wordlessly let him go since why stop him? There was nothing for either one of them to say, or so he'd thought, but Grant paused on the edge of the roof for just a heartbeat.

"But thanks." He leered over his shoulder. "Now don't  _ever_  come near me again, dad." 

Slade rotated around to him but by then, Grant wasn't there, swallowed up by the inky dark of the winter's night. Lord knows where the wind took that boy but he was gone and quite likely, would be for a while to come. Slade saw Grant intermittently, usually with a year in between each sighting that always ended in his son trying to decapitate him, a form of death he was disturbingly fixated on. 

Except for that time. That time, Grant walked away instead of running. 

Slade didn't nurture the tiny seedling of hope but it was there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww.... cute Wilson family moments are my drug of choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Come stalk me on Tumblr!
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/guillotinedr3ams


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